


like a soulmate story

by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Series: FullmoonFiclet Entries [62]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other, background Scott/Allison/Isaac, mention of tattoos and Stiles' fear of needles, mentioned drinking, mentioned memory blackout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: When Stiles wakes up, he spots the writing on his hip before anything else. In sheer panic, he grabs his phone and texts Scott. Because no matter how much he thinks it would be great, magic doesn't exist. Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com/457628.html) challenge on Livejournal - prompt #206: problem
> 
> Additionally inspired by [this prompt](http://writemesomewords.tumblr.com/post/155717120059/i-woke-up-this-morning-with-a-tattoo-of-a-name-on).

_Dude. Question._

**_Yeah?_ **

_What happened after we went into Jungle last night?_

**_Why?_ **

_Something happened, didn’t it?_

**_You don’t remember?_ **

_Why do you think I’m asking?_

The phone rings, and Stiles cringes at the sound, cursing his past -- probably too drunk to be responsible… scratch that, _definitely_ too drunk -- self for not turning his phone on silent when he got home. He hits the answer button and immediately after turns it on speaker, because holding the phone to his ear requires coordination he just doesn’t have.

“You don’t remember anything?” Scott asks before Stiles even says hello.

“I remember pre-gaming at your place, and then going to Jungle,” Stiles says.

His voice sounds foreign, hoarse like he spent the night singing and shouting. Which, considering they did go to the nightclub, is the most likely reason.

“Did we go in to help Danny make his ex jealous?”

“Yeah, bro. You said you owed him for that time when you used him as an excuse to your Dad,” Scott says, and he laughs. “I don’t know why, it’s not like Danny knew about that.”

“I felt like I owed him,” Stiles says. “Did it work?”

“What?”

“Making Danny’s ex jealous, dumbass.”

He sighs. He’s way too tired to make full sentences that Scott can follow.

“Yeah, I think so,” Scott tells him. “I mean, if you think them leaving together kinda early means that it worked.”

“Good for Danny boy,” Stiles says. “But dude... that’s not why I asked. Obviously, since I couldn’t remember that part until now.”

“What’s up? I mean, I kind of lost you at some point there, and then I ran into Isaac, but you didn’t do the Bat Signal thing, so I figured you were okay,” Scott says, sounding a little apologetic when he mentions Isaac.

“Are you at his and Allison’s place?” Stiles asks, suddenly picking up on noises in the background.

“Yeah, I… we…”

“Good for you, bro,” Stiles says. “But that isn’t what my problem is.”

“Then what is?”

“Well, I woke up and there was a name on my hip,” he blurts out, and then barrels on. “Like, it’s in this really pretty, loopy handwriting. Kind of like soulmates, but… magic isn’t real. Right?”

When there’s only silence on the other end of the line, Stiles glances at his hip again. The writing is still there, in a spot that was clear of anything but a stray mole he’s had there since he was little. Now though, he can see the five letters written clearly, in tidy cursive with a little flourish.

“Scott?” Stiles says when the silence lingers. “Seriously, Scotty, magic isn’t real, _right_?”

“Oh sorry man, Ally came in,” Scott says, and Stiles hears a distant greeting in the background. “What were you saying? You got a tattoo? What the hell, man?”

“I didn’t _get_ a tattoo,” Stiles says with exasperation. “There’s a name written on my hip, and it’s not coming off, and I have no idea how it got there. It doesn’t hurt, so it can’t be a tattoo. Though if it was, I”d understand the blackout, because…”

“Oh man, yeah, you’d pass out _again_ if you’d seen a needle,” Scott says, laughter ringing through his voice.

“Thanks for that reminder, bro,” Stiles says, and he sighs when he looks down on his hip again.

_Maybe magic does exist_ , he thinks. Just because he never heard about it, it didn’t mean that it wasn’t some Harry Potter crap that existed under a statute of secrecy.

“What’s the name?” Scott asks, and Stiles is confused for a moment, because his mind is still spinning around the possibility of magic existing.

“What? Oh, the tattoo,” he finally says, and then he squints at his hipbone.

There’s a sheet covering his legs, and it stops just below the loopy handwriting that he assumed was a name. Now that Scott asked though, Stiles isn’t sure, because he realises that he can’t read it.

“I don’t know?”

“Dude,” Scott says in a tone that betrays his amazement and exasperation.

“What did he do?” Allison’s voice comes through the phone.

“He’s an idiot,” Scott tells her, and Stiles huffs with indignation. “Is it even a name?”

“Whose name?” Allison asks, and she sounds more awake than Stiles feels.

He doesn’t say anything, but he squints at the writing again, and when his eyes finally adjust to seeing the writing upside down, he lets out a squeak.

“What? What is it?” Scott asks, suddenly alarmed.

“Derek,” Stiles whispers.

“Derek? Like, _Derek Hale_?”

Scott’s voice is louder than strictly necessary, and Stiles pulls the phone away from his ear, cringing as the noise makes his head throb in pain.

“Hi Stiles.”

The voice doesn’t come from the phone but from across the room that Stiles is in. Which, he finally notices, isn’t his own. He looks up from his hip and turns just enough to see the door.

And Derek Hale. Standing there with two paper cups with the logo of the coffee shop that Stiles usually goes to on his way to work. Which is right across the street from the Sheriff’s Station where he’s been working as a Deputy for about a year now. Where _Derek_ also works.

Stiles manages to fumble the phone and end the call as he does so, and he tugs the sheets from his hips to just above his waist.

When Derek walks over to the bed and holds one of the cups out to Stiles, there’s no way that Stiles could miss his own messy handwriting across Derek’s forearm, spelling out his _real_ name.

“So,” Derek says as he sits down on the side of the bed once Stiles takes the coffee and sits up. “About last night…”


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles tenses, and he tightens his hold on the coffee cup to hide the tremble in his hands. It’s obvious that Derek _remembers_ what happened, and all of a sudden Stiles isn’t sure if he wants to know.

“Hey, it’s nothing bad,” Derek says, noticing Stiles’ rising panic.

There’s a smile on his face, and it makes Stiles’ heart skip. Just a little. Like every time when he saw that kind of smile on Derek’s face at work. And only at work, because they don’t run in the same social circles. Granted, Stiles’ is mostly his Dad and Scott, so it’s kind of hard to accidentally be joined by anyone else, but still. Derek is in a whole different world on so very many levels.

But the smile does make an appearance at the station sometimes. Sure, it’s always directed at others, but Stiles did see it. He’s trying to _not_ think of the time when Derek was the one to entertain a toddler who got lost when there was a county fair in town, or the time when the K-9 unit got introduced to a litter of puppies who were brought in as part of their training to get used to the station’s scents and to the uniformed men who are now partnered with them. And he’s definitely not thinking of the kitten in Derek’s arms a few months ago that Parrish found half frozen in the alley next to the station.

“Stiles, breathe,” Derek says, breaking the stream of memories that are playing in Stiles’ mind like a movie. “Drink your coffee first. I have pain meds if you need them.”

 _Oh jeez, he’s nice_ , Stiles thinks. _That’s not fair._

He knew before that Derek was a good person. It came with being a cop and all that, but he’s also seen him be genuinely helpful when he didn’t _need_ to be. And he’s not sure if it’s the niceness or the quiet authority that Derek has when working that he finds more attractive. Or just all of Derek, really.

“Stiles?”

“Yes, present,” he blurts out automatically, snapping out of the spiral of his thoughts. “I mean, obviously, here, in… where am I?”

Derek chuckles as Stiles looks around, trying to find something he recognises.

“My place,” Derek tells him a moment later, and it seems like he’s just doing it to let Stiles out of the misery of confusion. “You… it was closer, and you said something about not wanting your Dad to see you drunk. Though, don’t you have your own place now, with Scott?”

“How do you know that?” Stiles asks.

He immediately winces, because he didn’t mean to say it out loud, even though he does wonder how Derek would have that piece of information.

“We work together, you’ve mentioned it. And it’s pretty obvious when you and Scott plan your grocery shopping in the break room,” Derek tells him with a smirk on his lips.

It’s almost like he finds it endearing or cute, and that’s something that Stiles can’t wrap his mind around. Because Derek doesn’t do that with Stiles, _ever_. He does frustrated, annoyed, and occasionally completely exasperated. All on the rare occasions when he’s not actively trying to stay away from him.

“Oh,” he manages to say, feeling a little stupid and a lot confused. “I didn’t know you paid attention.”

“Well, it’s not like you two are _quiet_ ,” Derek says, still with an amused tone.

“Yeah, I… sorry,” Stiles says sheepishly.

He’s aware that his and Scott’s communication when they’re together is anything but subtle or unnoticeable. Some of the other deputies -- and his Dad -- have pointed out that they know too much about Stiles’ personal life than they ever wanted to. Scott isn’t at the station all that often, but with the K-9 unit still in training, he’s been around a lot in the last while. Stiles is grateful that the conversations never included names, though in private they had talked about his appreciation of Derek’s… well, everything.

“No need for that,” Derek tells him, yet again bringing him back to reality out of the thought spiral. “You two can be kind of entertaining.”

He pauses, and Stiles cringes a little under the curious gaze that Derek gives him.

“It’s just, that’s why I was confused last night,” he says, and Stiles frowns.

“Why? I mean, it’s not like I remember anything…” he tells Derek, feeling the heat in his cheeks.

“I’ve heard you talk to Scott about something, but then last night you…” Derek glances down on his arm as he speaks. “You’ve been talking about a guy for _weeks_ , so I figured you had someone. But then you…”

Stiles is slowly piecing together what Derek is hinting at, and eventually there’s only one conclusion.

“It’s Sharpie,” he says flatly. “I did that.”

“You insisted,” Derek tells him, the amused smile back on his lips. “I mean, we both did the consent seminar, and you said you were too drunk, but you wanted to make sure that…”

“That you’d know in the morning that we had a _bond_ ,” Stiles finished, the memory hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Oh crap, I’m so so sorry, Derek,” he blurts.

He sets the coffee cup down on the nightstand and pulls the blanket high enough to cover his face. Sure, he knew that he was drunk before they even got to Jungle, but he never thought he’d be capable of _that_. Stiles quietly curses Scott for leaving, for letting Stiles fend for himself.

“Don’t be,” Derek says, and Stiles looks up sharply.

“What?”

“Don’t be sorry,” Derek repeats. “I’m not.”

Stiles would’ve dropped the coffee mug if he was still holding it, and he’s really glad that he put it down. This way the only thing that drops is his jaw as he stares at Derek in shock.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” Derek says.

“Because you’ve never… I never… I… _what_?” Stiles knows that he isn’t being coherent, but his mind has just been blown.

He ducks his head in embarrassment as his cheeks flush again. But then there’s an amused chuckle, and when he looks up, Derek’s eyes are lit up with a smile.

“I can’t believe no one told you,” Derek says.

“Told me what?” Stiles asks, his eyebrows scrunching into a frown.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you on a date for months,” Derek says, and there’s a faint blush under the stubble on his cheeks.

Stiles’ jaw drops again.

“Jordan knew,” Derek adds quietly. “I think the Sheriff had an idea too.”

“ _What_?” Stiles squeaks out.

He’s not even going to try to pretend that his voice was in any way deep and steady, because he’s still in shock.

“Why didn’t they… why would none of them tell me? Why didn’t they tell _you_ that I wasn’t dating anyone?” Stiles fires off the questions, and his mind is already planning the barrage of questions and ranting that he feels is necessary.

Derek shrugs one shoulder, and turns to Stiles with a look intense enough that the stream of thoughts in his mind halts to a stop.

“Well, since we’re supposedly soulmates,” Derek says, and he glances down on his arm. “Would you like to go out sometimes?”

Stiles nods before the full question has passed Derek’s lips. Then, in an intuitive move, he leans forward. Until he remembers that he’s mostly naked under the thin sheet that slipped down to his waist, _and_ that kisses before a first date are probably a little too forward. But then he notices Derek’s eyes widen and drop down to Stiles’ lips.

“I wanted to kiss you last night,” Stiles whispers. “You wouldn’t let me.”

He sounds and probably looks like he’s pouting as the memory runs through his mind. What happened at Jungle slowly makes its way back to him -- dancing, spotting Derek at the bar, drinks, the decision that he _had to_ tell him how he felt, Derek’s gentle refusal because Stiles was too drunk, finding the Sharpie -- and he blushes.

“You were too drunk,” Derek tells him. “As proven by the fact that you didn’t remember anything this morning.”

“I remember now,” Stiles says. “You really didn’t seem to mind me doing this,” he looks down to Derek’s arm and cautiously reaches out to brush a finger over the letters.

“Maybe I just wanted to find out your real name,” Derek says.

There’s more than a hint of teasing in his voice, and Stiles looks back at him.

“Could’ve just asked,” he says.

They’re close now, since Derek’s also leaning forward.

“Last time I did, you said it was only for very special people,” Derek tells him.

“That was _years_ ago!” Stiles exclaims, remembering the moment from when Derek started working as a Deputy.

“I didn’t know if I’d reached that privilege.”

“Well, now you know,” Stiles says, yet again glancing at the name. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Is that a threat?” Derek asks, amused.

“Maybe. Are you afraid?” Stiles asks as he leans another bit closer.

“Terrified,” Derek whispers. “That you’ll never do it.”

Stiles’ smirk melts against Derek’s lips as he takes the challenge and closes the gap between them.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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